


Breathe

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asphyxiation, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Dean & Sam Winchester To The Rescue, Everybody is okay in the end, Gen, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Dean Winchester, Resuscitation, Scared Dean Winchester, Schafer Method, submersion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 15:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18449603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Castiel doesn’t need to breathe; Dean knows this.But not needing to breathe, and not being able to because some kind of sludge is blocking his airways, that’s a whole different ball game.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Things get a little gross in this one. Some more detail in the end notes.

To the outside world, Arnold Lowry looks like what he’s tried very hard to appear to be.

A fifty something recently divorced investment advisor; not ready to start dating again, yet, but of a friendly, neighbourly disposition.

The kind of guy who helps Mrs Steinman carry in her groceries, and fixed Patsy Carter’s broken gate because being pregnant kind of held her back from DIY and her husband’s still deployed, and won’t be back for another four months.

If Dean didn’t know better, he’d think that’s who Arnold Lowry is too.

But Dean does know better. With Sam watching the street, Dean’s snuck into that house, while Arnold’s at his day job, and he’s found the attic filled with bundles of clothing, in so many sizes and styles that they obviously do not belong to the owner of the house.

He’s also found the covered pool out back, and peeked underneath to see a pool of thick brackish mud, bubbling as if something in it was breathing.

He got out of there fast, not ready to share the same fate he suspects befell the people whose clothing is now bagged up in Arnold’s house.

But tonight, once Cas joins them, they’ll have some questions for Arnold, and they’ll find out what the hell is in that pool.

++

The way Dean meant for it to go was this:

He and Sam would knock on Arnold’s front door, introduce themselves as FBI and ask to be let in. 

Arnold still thinks nobody knows he’s sneaking kidnapped people into his house under cover of darkness and then feeding them to his buddy in the pool, so he’ll say yes, especially when they explain there’s been reports of prowlers in the area, some of whom may be known to the FBI in association with open case files.

And Cas will be out back, using his angelic senses to try and get a feel for what’s living in the pool in Arnold’s yard.

Between Cas, and them, they’ll know it all before long and then Arnold and his pet will be gone come morning.

That’s how it was meant to go.

How it actually goes is like this:

Cas jumps the fence quietly, sneaking back to the pool.

Dean and Sam climb the steps to the front door, and they knock, and Arnold answers after a few moments.

His sleeves are rolled up, a tea towel slung over one shoulder.

He’s polite, a little guarded, nothing unexpected when two suited strangers knock on your door after dark.

He buys their story, and lets them in.

They follow him into the kitchen. A plate, a pot, some cutlery are dripping on the draining board.

The scent of a spicy meal still hangs in the air.

Arnold’s busy telling them he hasn’t seen any prowlers, but he’s glad the FBI is taking it seriously nonetheless because elderly people live on that street, and there’s a pregnant lady a few doors down whose husband is serving overseas, and-

Dean doesn’t know what gives them away, or maybe Arnold never really thought they were FBI agents at all and just wanted them as close to the back of the house as possible.

As close to the pool.

He has the pot in his hands, dabbing at it with the tea towel, and then he spins and throws it.

It cracks off Dean’s head, heavy enough to hurt, to draw blood but not to knock him cold. Even so, he staggers, and Arnold rushes them.

The fucker’s strong; Dean doesn’t know when he ended up on his knees but from there he watches Sam grappling with Arnold and, for all Sam’s strong, too, for all Sam knows how to fight, he’s not winning.

Dean hauls himself onto his feet, grabs the angel blade from the underarm sheath he wears, and drives it into Arnold’s back.

Maybe he’s human, maybe he’s not, but there are few things an angel blade won’t take out.

Arnold, apparently, isn’t one.

He drops like a felled tree, and Sam grabs hold of Dean before he goes the same way, but Dean shrugs him off. He has this. Maybe he also has a concussion, but Cas can take care of that.

Dean stumbles to the sink, peers into the yard.

Except…. 

Where the fuck is Cas?

++

They tear open the kitchen door and jump the steps down into the yard.

The pool cover is torn half off, torn inward, which suggests that Arnold’s buddy maybe got hungry and felt somebody moving nearby, or maybe it knew Arnold was dead and figured to hell with it.

Sludgy, half moving piles are spattered around the pool as if something (someone) was dragged in messily.

The entire surface of the gunk is rippling madly, like there’s some unseen battle going on in there, and Dean figures there probably is, right then, but how the fuck can they help?

And then something neon blue surges up and across the length of the pool, like electricity arcing from place to place.

Then it stops.

The gunk stops moving too; or, at least, the movement now seems almost leftover. It slurps against the poolside, a kind of tidal motion, but Dean has no doubt that whatever was in there (he suddenly considers that maybe the mud _is_ the creature instead of hiding it) Cas got it.

So then why isn’t he coming up?

He exchanges a helpless look with Sam. Cas can swim. His body might breathe but that’s because it’s an automatic process, not because he actually needs air.

He could stay down there for an hour or a day and then just walk out like he’d been down there a minute.

But he isn’t and Dean isn’t waiting an hour or a day.

Or another minute.

He dumps his coat, his gun, his blade, kicks off his shoes and goes in.

But it’s not like water. It’s like jumping into a marsh, and it clings to him, heavy and gross and threatening to tug him under.

Diving under the surface, hoping to search for Cas, would be pointless. He isn’t sure he could break the surface again, but even if he could, this stuff is too thick to see through. 

He’s going to have to stay on top and hope Cas hasn’t sunk out of reach of him.

With the sludge just under his chin, Dean reaches down, frantic, turning as best he can, stretching out, hoping to find something that feels like trench coat or hair or…

He can see Sam getting ready to join him, but Dean yells at him to stay there. If he gets Cas...When, when, not if…. He’ll need help getting them out, and for all he knows…

Maybe this thing isn’t dead yet. Maybe it is, but it still breaks down whatever was in the pool at the time for food, especially if this whole disgusting pit of slurry is it.

They need to get out, now.

Just like that, as if Chuck is sometimes listening, and does, sometimes, answer, and, sometimes, decides _not_ to be an asshole, Dean’s fingers brush fabric, and he grabs hold and pulls.

Cas breaks the surface like a dead weight, and Dean hauls the angel to him and yells to Sam for help.

Kicking towards the side seems to take everything Dean has. It’s like swimming through wet cement, and he can feel them both starting to sink under.

But he’s so close….

Sam kneels down, bracing himself right at the edge, reaching for them. He’s going to fall in, and then the three of them will go under and they’ll drown and maybe Cas will never wake up, and someone eventually will come by and drain the pool and they’ll find…

Sam grabs Dean’s collar and yanks, and then he pulls Cas up and onto the side, and helps Dean get out too.

But Cas still isn’t moving.

He’s covered head to toe in that shit, they can’t even see his face.

Dean tugs down his sleeve, Sam does the same, and they clean as much of it off as they can.

Cas’s eyes are shut, and his mouth and nose are clogged with whatever was in that pool.

So it’s in him as well as on him, maybe interfering with his Grace, or something, but Dean knows somehow if they want Cas to wake up they need to get that shit out.

He flips Cas onto his stomach, turns his head to the side, and crooks a finger in the angel’s mouth, clearing out as much as he can.

He gets Sam to watch for any sign of Cas coming to, and then straddles the angel’s thighs.

This is where he’ll need to watch; if he’s not careful, he could break Cas’s ribs, but that’s a whole lot better than the angel…

No. That’s not going to happen.

Dean finds the bottom of Cas’s rib cage, seats his hands there, and rocks his weight forward and down.

Cas’s upper body shudders, but nothing happens.

So Dean does it again, and again, rocking forward and back, forward and back, forward and…

Something cracks, so loud that even Sam hears it and he looks horrified, but once Cas comes out of this, he can heal a broken rib, or ribs, that doesn’t matter.

Getting this sludge out of him does.

Dean keeps going.

And then, suddenly, with a horrible squelching sound, a pool of the stuff pours out of Cas’s mouth.

Somehow, Dean knows there’s more than that, so he keeps going, and Sam wipes as much of it away as he can.

Finally, finally, what seems like a congealed mush gets hacked up, and it is more like a hack, then, as if Cas’s body is finally on board, helping, and coughing up the last of what was caught in his lungs.

He makes a few strangled respirations, and the stuff in his nose dribbles out too.

There’s even some blood, but that’s okay, because like with the rib, Cas can heal it too.

They turn him over, listen to his breathing. Ragged, but steadying, evening out.

And then he opens his eyes.

++

There’s a blanket in the trunk that Dean keeps for situations like this. For when they covered in mud, or blood, or whatever to avoid staining the seats.

Or for when one of them needs some back seat first aid, or is sick and shivering.

It’s seen a lot of use, and it’s as much part of the car now as the engine, or the leather, or that tiny piece of plastic still wedged in one of the vents.

They can’t linger too long; Dean’s a little surprised nobody’s responded to shouts from Arnold’s back yard.

(He wonders, later, if maybe on some subconscious level Arnold’s neighbours did know something was off about him. Maybe not what, and maybe not enough for them to break the social niceties and refuse to let him carry their bags or fix their fences, but enough for them not to go see what was happening at his house).

He tosses Sam the keys, spreads the blanket out in the back, and shoves Cas into the car. Gets in after, and holds the angel steady as Sam backs them up and around and gets out of there.

Cas is still a little out of it, but Dean can see he’s pulling himself back together.

He tugs open Cas’s shirt, reaches around, and feels the uneven bump that’s the lowest rib out of alignment.

Cas groans and tries to pull away, but Dean holds him still and explains.

Cas has gotta heal that, heal whatever else is busted or torn or just tainted inside himself from that thing in the pool.

Whatever it was.

It’s always difficult getting changed while the car’s moving, even more so doing it to somebody else, but all Dean can think is that he doesn’t want even what’s left of that thing from the pool anywhere near any of them.

He changes, first, not wanting to move Cas too much until he’s healed his rib, at least, and then stuffs his suit into a trash bag. 

That’s going in the incinerator the minute they’re back. Maybe  
Cas’s clothes too; he’s due a change, even if it’s just a new suit and a new trench.

By the time Dean’s grabbed another Henley and a pair of sweatpants from his duffel, Cas is looking a little less like he just got Grace-asphyxiated back there, or whatever happened to shut him down.

He’s obviously healed the rib, because he’s able to help as Dean strips him and gets him into the other clothes.

By the time they’re done, he seems almost back to normal, and Dean tugs the dirty blanket out from under him, and stuffs it in the bag as well.

That, though…. Maybe that they can save.

He slumps down next to Cas, grateful to feel a warm, mostly whole, and alive angel next to him.

Fucking angel-eating pool monsters. 

After this, they’re taking the week off.

**Author's Note:**

> Dean will be using the Schafer method to expel what’s basically sludge from Cas lungs while he’s unconscious so there will be a scene where he hacks it all up.
> 
> Dean also breaks a rib while doing this, but Cas will be okay.


End file.
